


Lost and Found

by Littlelambred



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 11:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3445049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlelambred/pseuds/Littlelambred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kieren's best friend, Rick, begins showing strange, sometimes gruesome symptoms, Kieren isn't sure who he can turn to for help. Rick insists he's fine - even goes so far as to spout some nonsense about how he's "changing" - but Kieren isn't sure he can believe it.</p><p>Trouble arises when a pack of strangers rolls into Roarton and suddenly appear around every corner of Kieren's life. Something keeps drawing them together, despite the fact that both parties hate each other, and Kieren is determined to find out <i>why</i> he's so repulsed (and attracted) to Simon, their leader.</p><p>One thing is certain: monsters exist. Monsters with slow, smoker's grins and soft hands.<br/>Monsters who will eat Kieren alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> It's actually still the 26th where I live, so I'm not late (technically).  
> I have no one to blame but myself for how horribly this story was handled. After dealing with a very high-stress, high-stakes past few months, this story had been shoved so far back on my priority list that by the time I got to it, I had about two weeks left.  
> I'm sorry, so terribly and sincerely sorry. I also want to apologize to my artist, who never got this story in time to get the art done today. I'm so, so, so sorry. Take all the time you need to get your part done, because you sure as hell deserve it!
> 
> Without further ado, I give you Lost and Found, the story that nearly killed me.

The Legion was bustling that evening. It was barely nine o’clock yet every table was packed with tipsy customers. Pearl was busy behind the counter, filling and refilling the clouded glasses before sliding them out single-file for Kieren to serve. Kieren had to rush to get all the drinks out before anyone got upset – although the booth in the corner scowled no matter how quickly Kieren ran. He and Pearl shared a glance when one customer – Kevin Ghallardi – called Kieren’s name demanding another pint. Pearl pressed two glasses into his hands and Kieren scrambled off again.

The television was blaring. A few tables seemed to be paying attention, but not enough to holler when a goal was made or missed. One or two men frowned or grinned, but they were easily distracted.

Kieren was collecting glasses from the recently vacated table three when the door swung open and Mrs. Hardy from down the street stumbled in, clutching her down coat closed with one bony hand. She was shivering and swearing like a sailor, which meant she was in a good mood.

“Good evening, Mrs. Hardy.” Pearl yelled over the bar. Mrs. Hardy slid onto a bar stool and plucked one of the drinks from the counter – one that was not hers, obviously, but Pearl didn’t argue, just set out to make another. Mrs. Hardy took a long sip and winced, but she seemed content for the buzz alone.

“There is a gang of miscreants outside loitering.” Mrs. Hardy said. She spoke very, very slowly and liked to drag her words out until they were a low and gravelly whisper. Her thin, pointed face pinched together when she spoke. “They look like they’re up to no good.”

Pearl hummed and handed the last round to Kieren, who rushed to serve the unruly group of five. Among them was Gary Kendal, who sneered over the lip of his glass when Kieren set down the drinks. Kieren screwed up his face when Gary wasn’t paying attention.

“Kieren,” Pearl called, “Go check on the boys outside. I’ll handle the tables for a moment.”

Kieren groaned; of all the tasks he was given at the Legion, dispersing crowds was his least favourite. He’s much too soft-spoken and awkward to actually do anything.

He stuffs the rag he’d used to wipe down table four into his back pocket and shrugged his hoodie on. The weather was beginning to take a turn for the worst.

The crowd was easy enough to spot. Five people, standing in a small cluster in the lot in front of the Legion. One of them took a drag from the cigarette in his hand. When he exhaled, the smoke rose from him toward the sky in a single thin wisp.

Kieren took a deep breath and stepped down from the Legion’s front steps. His voice betrayed his anxiety. “Hi, you wouldn’t mind moving on, would you?”

Three pairs of eyes shifted to focus on him. Kieren sneered and scuffed his boot in the gravel. 

One man stood out in particular: he wore a leather jacket over a white dress shirt and slacks, but his face was covered in a couple of day’s worth of stubble. His whole body seemed like a coil about to spring, tensed muscles that betrayed something feral inside of him.

But his eyes were calm and kind when they settled on Kieren. The man tilted his head appraisingly and pressed his lips together.

The other three giggled. The best word Kieren came up with to describe them was “goons”. The leather-wearing man whispered something and they quieted.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was deep. Kieren mused that the sound of it was a bit like honey, or perhaps something darker, like black-strap molasses running through his bloodstream. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation, but instead an anxiety-inducing one. Nonetheless, Kieren couldn’t help feeling attracted to this particular stranger. “My name was Simon. My friends and I have only just arrived in Roarton.”

The pack behind him giggled again, like Simon had told a joke only they understood. Kieren huffed, his breath a visible white cloud. Simon smiled politely.

“Yeah, well, I’d prefer if you came in, or went on.” Kieren said gruffly. Simon blinked, taken aback by the tone of Kieren’s voice. Kieren reiterated: “You’re scaring the locals. People around here don’t like strangers – especially not when they look like you lot.”

“Oh?’ Simon tilted his body toward Kieren in a gesture that was somehow intimate. Despite the hair-raising way Kieren’s stomach churned, Kieren felt himself take a step forward. “And what do we lot look like?”

“You know.” Kieren gestured to them with his fists, which were buried in his coat pockets. He lacked the proper words to describe them. “Like… hooligans.”

“Hooligans?”

“Look, would you please just get off the property?” Kieren snapped. The rest of the group snickered, and from the look on Simon’s face, he was close to chortling as well. Kieren cursed this man and then, for good measure, cursed his father and his father’s father as well. “You’re scaring people.”

Simon couldn’t repress his grin any longer, which frustrated Kieren beyond belief. Simon spoke with such over-the-top sincerity that Kieren nearly turned on his heel and walked away. “I’m sorry. We won’t bother you.”

Kieren watched them leave, grinding his teeth the whole time. Before they were even a safe distance away, Kieren grumbled very sarcastically to himself, “Thank you.”

Simon looked back and grinned.

\---=

“Kieren!” His mother called from downstairs. “It’s Rick!”

Kieren sighed in defeat and set down his paintbrush. It wasn’t like he was getting anywhere with it anyway, but he’d been looking forward to spending the day painting – Mr. Van Damme had taken interest in Kieren’s work and he’d been hoping to hand in something special before midterms – but he just wasn’t feeling up to meeting with Rick today. Not to mention how thoughts of the earlier night still followed him like a cloud, mocking every word that had dripped from his mouth.

While tugging out his ear buds, Kieren yelled, “I’ll be there in a moment!”

A few moments later, as Kieren slowly packed up his paints, his father poked his head in Kieren’s room. “Kier, Rick’s on the phone.”

“Yeah, I know.” Kieren pushed his supplies beneath his bed. “I said I’d be down in a minute.”

“Oh.” His father sheepishly opened the door a bit wider to let Kieren through. “Sorry, I – I didn’t hear you over the television.”

“It’s no problem.” Kieren bounded down the stairs and accepted the phone from his mother, who kissed him on the cheek. Kieren smiled and waved to Jem in the dinning room. She mimed hanging herself; a chemistry text book laid face-up in front of her, surrounded by a mess of scattered papers and pens.

“Kieren?” Rick’s voice drifted up from the telephone. Kieren pressed it to his cheek and made a noise of agreement to let Rick know he was there. Rick began speaking before Kieren could do much else.

“Kieren, something’s wrong with me.”

“Rick, I’ve already told you – everyone gets spots on their –“

“No – damn it Kieren – I’m bleeding. My teeth are bleeding.” Rick paused to catch his breath. “Can you remember when Sally Jones punched me in fifth grade? How she knocked my front tooth clear out of my mouth?”

“Yeah. You cried about it for two days.” Kieren leaned against the counter and tucked the phone between his shoulder and jaw. “Did you hit yourself in the night?”

“No, Kieren.” Rick sounded desperate. “My teeth are falling out. I’m bleeding because my teeth have fallen out.”

Kieren was silent – so silent that Rick quickly interjected “Kieren? Are you still there?” – as he considered Rick’s statement.

“Kieren, please, come over.” 

“Was your father home?”

“No, Kieren, please.”

Kieren thought about the blank canvas sitting on his bedcover. He was still wearing his bedclothes and didn’t feel like changing. Kieren made himself a mug of coffee and a bread roll while he thought.

“Yeah, give me a minute.”

“Please.” And the line went dead. 

\---=

Even though Kieren knew that Bill Macy was not home at that particular moment, Kieren’s blood still froze as he turned onto Rick’s street. An old reflex, his blood felt sluggish and thick like molasses in his veins as he trudged up the path towards Rick’s home.

Kieren knocked once and then pushed the front door open. “Rick? Rick, are you home?”

When Rick didn’t answer, Kieren stepped in and locked the door behind himself. He carefully folded his jacket over the chesterfield and poked his head into the kitchen. Rick was nowhere to be found. “Rick?”

A noise drew Kieren upstairs. He called for Rick again; this time he was met by a strange gurgling noise that sounded more like a sob. Kieren took the stairs two at a time until he came to the top of the flight and then yelled, “Rick!”

The bathroom door was slightly ajar and light poured from it, spilling out in one long stripe in the dark corridor. Kieren pushed the door open and peered in.

Rick stood, hunched over the sink, gagging. Blood and saliva dripped from his mouth in a viscous red mix and pooled in the basin. There were a couple of white lumps lying among the smatter of fluid – lumps that Kieren would come to realize were teeth. Rick looked up at Kieren, red-faced as if he’d been crying, and spat another mouthful of blood into the sink.

“Kieren.” His voice was thin and strained. He must have been in tremendous pain. “Oh god Kieren, it hurts.”

“Rick, you need to call an ambulance.” Kieren was already backing out of the bathroom. Rick’s hand shot out to stop him.

“No!” Blood flew from Rick’s lips when he yelled and spattered the wall beside Kieren. “Kieren, look.”

Rick then tilted his head back and opened his mouth for Kieren to see. In the gaps where Rick’s teeth had been, Kieren could faintly make out the white specks of new, fresh teeth protruding from his bleeding gums.

“Rick, you need a doctor.”

“No – Kieren, I can’t go to a doctor.” Rick coughed loudly and then made a very disturbing gurgling sound from his throat. He leaned over the sink and spat another tooth into it; the sound echoed in the room like a stone hitting pavement.

“You’re bleeding!” Kieren protested. Rick shook his head and turned on the faucet, which made the teeth rattle around, unable to fit down the drain. He cupped his hands and then swished the water in his mouth; two more teeth tumbled from his lips when he spat. He turned the faucet off.

Kieren watched Rick’s face for any flicker of emotion, but Rick had become enthralled with his reflection in the mirror above the sink. Rick leaned in closer and examined his face – realization blossomed, beginning in his eyes and quickly spreading until Rick was staring open-mouthed at himself.

“No, I’m…” Rick rubbed the back of his hand over his chin, which was caked in dried flakes of blood. He looked like a character from a horror film, sunken-eyed and hungry for blood. “Kieren, I’m changing.”

“You can’t possibly believe that, Rick.”

Rick only grinned; his smile was a mess of crooked teeth and rivulets of red, like the sticky cherry sweets they shared as children. It ran down his face and neck and pooled in a dark stain on Rick’s collar. Kieren hadn’t noticed beforehand how thin Rick had become, but now it was like Rick’s condition was a beast staring him down. Rick’s shirt hung off his shoulders and the leather bands he wore around his forearm had slipped down over the heel of his hand.

“I can feel it, Ren.” Rick’s voice was surprisingly sincere. He and Kieren stood in silence, staring at each other.

“What are you changing into then?”

Rick swiped his tongue over his teeth and pulled out one last tooth. His mouth was mostly gum now; only his molars remained. His voice was garbled. “I don’t know yet.”

\----=

Within an hour, Rick’s teeth had crested. While Rick lay on his couch and complained, Kieren took the opportunity to lock himself in the bathroom – the one downstairs, because Rick’s was still fairly gruesome – and panic.

Rick was correct when he said that something was wrong – what was another matter entirely – and that knowledge crept up Kieren’s throat and stole his breath. Kieren braced his hands against the wall and inhaled as deeply as he could.

His mind was running circles around itself, one blinding thought after another –  
Why was this happening? How could it be fixed? – so curious that Kieren resorted to just sitting down against the bathroom door and covering his face with his hands.

The air in the bathroom tasted stale; Rick called Kieren’s name: “Kieren?”

Kieren’s skin was boiling – Rick knocked on the door - his stomach felt cold, as if he’d swallowed a glass of ice water. 

Kieren –

“Kieren, do you want to go out for lunch with me?”

The doorknob jiggled and then squeaked open, pushing Kieren along with it. Kieren scrambled out of the way so Rick could open the door all the way. There wasn’t a trace of blood on him. His shirt had been changed and it seemed Rick had even gone through the trouble to comb his hair. Kieren’s chest swelled with hope, as if that morning had never happened.

“Yeah. Yes, please.” Kieren leapt to his feet and nodded, eager to put the day behind them. “Wherever you like.”

Rick smiled. “Okay, let me get my coat.”

Rick’s teeth were straight, pearly white, and as sharp as needles.

\---=

Rick absolutely hated Josie’s Diner – the food was soaked in grease, the seats were in desperate need of reupholstering, and the whole place reeked of cigarette smoke.

It was safe to say that Kieren was shocked – flabbergasted – when Rick stopped on Josie’s doorstep and said, “Here. Let’s eat here.”

Kieren was convinced that everything that had unfolded was a dream, or maybe an alternate reality where they read right-to-left and ice cream didn’t taste good. Instead of arguing, Kieren followed Rick into Josie’s and didn’t complain when the bench he sat on groaned under his weight. If he complained, the dream might turn on him and Rick might start bleeding again.

Rick smiled with his new teeth and plucked on of the glossy menus off the tabletop. Out loud he deliberated, “Eggs or pancakes? I’m famished.”

“You have a lower chance of dying from a heart attack if you get the pancakes.” Rick made a noise of agreement.

“Maybe I’ll get both.” Kieren twirled his fork between his fingers and watched Rick dissect the menu. Stacy Normand, an older girl with fluorescent pink hair and smudged eyeliner, came around once to ask them if they’d like drinks. She was incredibly disinterested with them and kept her eyes glued on the parking lot while she asked them only what was required of her to get her pay check: “What do you want to drink?”

The bell attached to the door rang, although it may as well have not been there; the door’s hinges shrieked when it was opened. Stacy sighed and turned her head to watch the group of five enter and sit down. Tucking her notepad into the back pocket of her jeans, she walked over to repeat the same question to them.

Among the group, a girl with long black hair and a ridiculously large sunhat spoke enthusiastically to her friends. She had one arm slung around another girl beside her and waved the other arm to demonstrate her point. The blonde girl beside her rolled her eyes, prompting black-hair to protest loudly. Blonde-hair laughed.

There was one more person squeezed into the booth beside the girls. He had black hair and a slightly unkempt appearance, like he was a few days behind himself and had to rush to catch up with his looks.

And, he was wearing a leather jacket over a thick brown sweater. Simon.

Rick turned around to look at the group. “I’ve never seen them before.”

“I saw them last night, actually.” Kieren slid down in the booth irritably; the sticky plastic squeaked obnoxiously loud as he went. “They caused a disturbance outside the Legion.”

Kieren didn’t believe any of the old wives’ tales, didn’t believe in love at first sight or auras or the red string of fate, but something about Simon was different. In fact, Simon was the complete opposite of attraction; looking at Simon made Kieren want to spring from his seat and sprint in the opposite direction. There was an overwhelming rise of emotion in Kieren’s chest at the sound of Simon’s voice drifting from the far table.

Simon, who had looked up, and was staring fixatedly at the back of Rick’s head.

Kieren startled when he realized that Simon must have noticed them both staring. 

Everyone at the adjacent table quieted and unsubtly turned to face Kieren and Rick. They each stared, wide-eyed, as if they felt the same connection Kieren did; that same sense of wrongness about the other’s existence. The hairs on Kieren’s nape stood as one thought circulated in his mind: they should not exist.

“Are you going to get anything, Kieren?” Rick asked, seemingly oblivious to the attention he was being given. Or maybe he wasn’t, since his fingers were gripping the menu so tightly that the plastic cover was warping. Kieren shook his head no.

When Kieren gathered the courage to sit up straight and spare a glance at the group, they’d all gone back to their affairs.

Except Simon; his eyes never left their table.

 

\---=

Simon approached Kieren in the library the next day. 

The Roarton public library was possibly the largest building in the town; it was three stories tall, although only the lobby actually served as a library, and held all of the town’s history in its one very small annex. Kieren was perusing the shelves for inspiration, plucking random numbers off the shelf and thumbing through them. He hadn’t much luck. 

He met Simon near the beginning of the 400’s.

Simon grinned, looking up from the book in his hand. His infamous leather jacket was missing, replaced by a large brown cardigan and khakis. Dressed as he was, Simon looked more like a librarian than the rough-and-tough gang member Kieren remembered. 

Kieren found himself smiling as well.

“Hello Kieren.” Simon closed his book and wedged it back onto the shelf. Kieren’s eyes lingered on the flash of golden script on the spine. The words “Lycanthropy Through the Ages” stared back at him.

“Hi, Simon.” Kieren readjusted the stack of books in his arms. “What are you doing here?”

Simon shrugged. “Nothing too interesting, I’m afraid. How about you?”

Kieren nearly lost the top of his stack; Simon caught the book before it could hit the ground. “Thanks. I’m just looking for some inspiration – I seem to have hit a wall.”

“Inspiration for what?” Kieren admired the slope of Simon’s body as he leaned against the bookshelves. Simon’s lips had a strange curve to them – it was a slow curl, very soft and polite, but one that hinted at something dirty underneath. 

“I like to draw.” It sounded lame, but Kieren didn’t want to sound conceited. Simon’s eyebrows rose and his face brightened with interest.

“You do?” Kieren didn’t realize before how close they were. Simon’s shoulder knocks against Kieren’s when Simon rocks on the balls of his feet, and his head was tilted down toward Kieren’s. “Are you any good?”

Kieren swallowed. “I guess. I’ve been accepted for an art scholarship in the city.”

Up close, Kieren could see each individual emotion that crossed Simon’s face. Simon swallowed before speaking; he looked at Kieren like he was looking into him, past his skin. He and Kieren shared their breath.

“Maybe you could draw me sometime.” Simon said. It was unfair how easy he said it, how laidback he was. Kieren’s brain stopped working as soon as the words left Simon’s mouth as he processed the double entendre behind his words.

All that Kieren supplied was a lame, ”Err… yeah?”

Simon laughed; the sound was abrupt and jarred Kieren out of his reverie. A quick glance around the room proved that no one was around to see the exchange, which was a gift in Roarton, where everyone knew your secrets before you did. The only other person in the library was Mrs. Finch, a woman well past retirement, behind the front desk. Kieren knew that she would not look up from her book unless the dead rise.

Simon stepped out of Kieren’s space, a loss which some deeper part of Kieren mourned. His feelings for Simon were overwhelming. Simon ran and hand through his hair which made a few strands stick up at awkward angles. His lips pursed. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Of course.” Kieren said. Simon shoved his hands into the pockets of his cardigan and started toward the exit. Kieren, for lack of anything else to say, blurted out the first thing he could manage. “How about I show you around Roarton?”

Simon stopped and looked at Kieren strangely. Kieren added: “I mean, I just figured, I could – I could show you around?”

It was complete shit, considering Roarton was only a few blocks wide and long and its hub was a cheap pub on the edge of town. All Kieren had to offer Simon was a tour of the woods, and maybe a history lesson if Simon didn’t stand Kieren up.

“You’d do that?”

Kieren nodded. “Of course, yeah.”

Simon chewed on his bottom lip and then spoke. “Kieren, was this your way of asking me out?”

Kieren wasn’t sure he even meant to ask Simon. Instead of giving an answer, Kieren shrugged. “Maybe? I don’t…”

“I’d like that very much, if you are.” Simon said. Kieren startled; the same unease he normally felt around Simon multiplied, making him feel ill, and yet there was still the underlying attraction, the pull beneath Kieren’s skin that drew him in. He was so confused that instead of stepping away, Kieren stepped closer until he and Simon were nearly toe-to-toe. As if he were being pulled in by the same magnetism, Simon leaned forward.

“I…” A very lame start, but Kieren was having trouble even forming thoughts, too caught up in the sick plunge of his stomach and the frantic tap of his heart against his chest. From this close he could smell Simon’s cologne. “The offer stands.”

“Where will you meet me?”

Kieren’s head spun. Simon was intoxicating when he was this close and drew Kieren in. While some part of him still shrieked at the wrongness of their conversation and warned him to get out, get out, Kieren bit his lip and said, “At the Legion? Where we first met?”

Simon sounded just as breathless as Kieren did – or maybe even more so – when he spoke. “Yes, that’s… that’s a wonderful idea.”

They stood in silence for longer than necessary, almost pressed together, until Simon withdrew, out the door in a matter of seconds. Over his shoulder he called, “Tomorrow – tomorrow at seven, yeah?”

Kieren didn’t feel good. In fact, he felt sick to his stomach, like he might throw up.

He felt manipulated.

\---=

When Kieren was done searching the library for inspiration, he walked over to Rick’s to try and relax. When he arrived, Rick wrinkled his nose like he smelled something sour.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Rick snapped irritably. He let Kieren in and then added, “Did Henry come to see you, too?”

“Who’s Henry?”

Rick narrowed his eyes. “Never mind. Do you want to play some Xbox?”

\---=

The next day clawed its way from the horizon and brought with it a vicious hail storm. Kieren watched the sleet beat down on the road through the living room window. The weather only served to worsen Kieren’s mood.

When Rick called and asked Kieren if he wanted to come over, Kieren welcomed the distraction. He pulled on his boots and rain jacket and practically sprinted down the lane toward Rick’s house, eager to escape the rain and whatever the day had in store.

He turned the corner and caught a glimpse of Rick’s house – safe at last! – only to be startled to a stop. Standing in the doorway was Simon, shadowed by another man and the same black-haired woman from the diner. While both men were sharply dressed in all black, she was a bright pink smudge in the rain. 

The closer Kieren got, the more apprehensive he became. He could hear Rick yelling at Simon, asking him to leave in a tone that was anything but polite. The woman in pink and the other man didn’t speak, but Simon was vocal. He was bargaining with Rick.

The woman noticed Kieren approaching and smiled. She seemed embarrassed by the scene they were causing. She jammed her elbow into Simon’s side to cut him off.

“Simon?” Kieren slowed to a stop. The cold was tearing into his skin and water plastered his hair to his forehead, but Kieren got the feeling he would not be anymore comfortable inside than out.

“Hello, Kieren.” Simon nodded tensely. The air seemed heavily with tension, but the sound of Simon’s voice still made his skin tingle. “I was just on my way to meet you.”

“Don’t you dare.” Rick snapped. He seemed volatile, about to burst at any moment. A shiver ran down Rick’s spine, followed by another, until Rick was gripping the doorframe white-knuckled. Both men rushed forward to help him but Rick swatted them away. 

The hail pounded even harder and seemed to roar through the air. Kieren took Rick by the arm to support him.

“Rick, just-“

It took a moment for it to register in Kieren’s head, but he realized that the reason Simon had stopped talking was because Rick had bared his teeth and growled. The sound could barely be heard over the storm but Kieren felt it vibrating beneath his fingers where they were splayed across Rick’s chest. All three newcomers, Simon and his companions, sucked in a collective breath. The girl looked especially annoyed.

Simon stepped forward and instantly, in the small step, seemed to completely shift. As if he’d shed some sort of invisible skin, Simon became a whole new person – a terrifying person, the kind who destroyed any shred of attraction Kieren had and replaced it with cold, hard fear. Simon’s eyes were calculating and cold, like an attack dog as he prowled forward and bared his teeth in the same manner. His voice was light and airy but sliced through into Kieren’s skin like steel.

“You’ll shift soon, Rick.” Kieren stared openly at Simon, whose appearance seemed to ripple, like the surface of a pond or a mirage on a hot day. 

Kieren realized then that the whole time he’d been staring at Simon, Simon had been staring at him. Nothing about him was aggressive. One of Simon’s hands rested on Rick’s shoulder and the other over Kieren’s arm.

Rick snapped and shoved Simon away. His whole body was being wracked by tremors that couldn’t have been caused by the cold. 

“Kieren step back.” The woman spoke very urgently and reached around Simon, but Rick stepped forward and intercepted her. He wasn’t acting like himself; his movements were jerky and too aggressively postured. He seemed like he was trying intensely to make himself appear larger.

“Amy, step back.” The brown-haired man drew closer to Simon and wrapped hios jacket around his body tightly. They all stood in a semi-circle around Rick, watching.

The hail never ceased.

Rick shook and collapsed onto his knees. Kieren made a move to help him but Simon blocked his way. When Kieren struggled, Simon opened his arms and pulled Kieren closer, effectively squashing Kieren’s arms between them.

Kieren protested loudly and thrashed with all his might. Simon spoke but the words seemed jumbled, lost in the rain and the blood pounding in Kieren’s ears.

Then Rick jerked.

His whole body tensed and arched off the ground. His skin rippled and pulsed sickly as if something were crawling beneath the surface. There was a sharp crack as one of Rick’s forearms snapped. Kieren watched in wide-eyed horror as the bones then fused together with a hiss.

Rick screamed, but the sound was distorted and much lower than normal. It continued, on and on, as Rick’s body bubbled and pulled; as his skin melted away into thick blond fur; he howled in pain until all that was left of Rick was a crumpled heap of bones, blood, and fur.

Rick had shifted completely.

\---=

“What do you mean?” Kieren shrieked. Simon, Amy and Henry, the man who followed Simon, were all crammed together onto the only couch in the Amy’s bungalow while Kieren paced in front of them. Rick lay on the floor near the doorway, sleeping. It had taken a lot of effort, but the four of them – alright three, minus Kieren – had managed to coerce him to stand on his shaky legs and walk with them back to the Bungalow.

Now that he was inside, Kieren allowed himself to panic properly.

“He turned into a dog.” Kieren’s voice rose with each word. “My best mate is a dog!”

“A wolf, actually.” Henry corrected him unhelpfully. Kieren whirled around to glare at him, but Henry seemed unfazed. 

“And you… you’re all wolves too?” Kieren laughed sharply. “Oh my god, you’re werewolves. My sixth-grade kiss is a werewolf. My best friend is a storybook character.”

“Rick was chosen.” Amy snapped. Her voice startled Kieren; the other two had been so soft-spoken, but Amy skipped straight to the point. Kieren listened. “It’s a curse, one that was placed on us years ago.”

“How can we break it?”

Amy ignored his question. “Simon was one of the first. He’s been alive for centuries and has dealt with hundreds of shifts. Rick is in good hands.”

Kieren held up a finger and took a moment to calm his breathing. Then he demanded, “Centuries?”

Simon grimaced and nodded. “Three, to be exact.”

“Three.” Kieren echoed. “You’ve been alive for three centuries. Three-hundred years.”

“Yes.”

Kieren sat down unceremoniously on the floor and dug his fingers in his hair. “So why has Rick been chosen?”

Amy shrugged but it was Henry who replied. They all seemed to work as pieces of one larger machine, finishing each other’s sentences, laying hands across knees and arms, even moving together simultaneously. “We don’t know. All we know is that every year, right before the Change, a new one is chosen.”

“It’s like we’re magnetized to the new wolf.” Amy added. “We’re drawn to them and become obsessed with finding them.”

“Why?”

“Who knows?” Simon. “Maybe it’s to survive the bloodline – not that we need to, since a new one of us arrives every December – but whatever it is that drives us, we’re insatiable until we find them. Once we do, we usually settle there for the winter until that person can successfully integrate themselves.”

“Into… what? Into your pack?” Kieren joked. “Oh god, you actually have a pack, don’t you?”

“Rick is a part of my pack now.” Simon nodded toward Rick’s sleeping form. “We’ll set him up with a box soon enough, but all Pack really means is that he’ll have someone to support him in the winter.”

The room became very still and very quiet. Kieren was done asking questions; whatever else Simon wanted to say, he could say it and Kieren would listen. Other than that, Kieren just wanted to bury his head in his lap and scream.

If Rick was Pack now, that meant he would feel the Pull too. He would leave Roarton for a world of adventure – one that would never end – as he hopped from city to city in search of new blood.

Kieren had never felt so unbelievably uncomfortable in his life.

“Why only during the winter?” Kieren’s voice was very small – this was the last question he needed to ask, the only answer he needed. After that, he was leaving. He would leave, go home, open his computer, and accept Mr. Van Damme’s proposal. He would forget Rick, forget his crush, forget Roarton if he had to.

It meant nothing if Rick wasn’t going to be there with him.

“We shift during the winter.” Simon’s voice was the final nail in the coffin. “We turn back in the spring.”

Kieren nodded. Then he stood. Then he stretched his arms above his head, yawned, and ignored the swell of emotion in his throat.

Simon stood to show Kieren out, but before he opened the door, he turned to Kieren. The same attraction overcame Kieren, despite his grief. It was worse now than ever; his chest felt like it was about to explode, like instead of a heart there was a hand reaching through him, tearing him apart to get to Simon. At the same time, being so close made him ill.

“Can you feel it?” Simon’s voice was soft so the other two couldn’t hear them. Kieren stepped closer until his head was resting on Simon’s shoulder, which felt surprisingly natural. “The Pull.”

“I have never been more disgusted by someone in my life.” Kieren admitted. Simon, surprisingly, did not look offended. His fingers reached up to lightly comb through Kieren’s hair.

“It’s the curse, I’m afraid.” Simon sighed; he spoke quietly to keep their conversation private, or maybe just to savour the moment. “Fate is a terrible thing. From the moment I met you, I wanted you. I wanted it to be you.

“You smelled like Rick, that night in from of the Legion. I was almost ecstatic, finally, someone I wanted. Can you feel it, Kieren?”

“Sadly, yeah.”

Simon laughed.

“Don’t worry, Kieren. We’re coming back, I promise. Come springtime, we’ll be back, Rick, Amy and I.”

“You’re Pack, Kieren. Whether you like it or not, you’ve felt the pull. You’re Pack.”

**Author's Note:**

> I want to just add: thank you, dearest Katie, my best friend and professional butt-kicker. You can hit me all you want now; I'm done, and it's all thanks to you.  
> Also my mom, who paid 40$ for me to sit in a fancy restaurant so I had the proper atmosphere to write this (and for letting me slack off school work to finish this)
> 
> You can come yell at me [here](http://corpseroacl.tumblr.com/) or [here](http://kiili.tumblr.com/)


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